The next six uneventful days came and went, with the most excitement the trio faced being a scruffy group of bandits that Knax quickly chased off. No monsters, no soldiers, just dry tiring heat and tall savannah grass.
      Throughout the long days Knax would bring them small rodents and marsupials for meat, and The Prince led small foraging efforts to fill in the gaps. They drank water from small streams and ponds that became more and more infrequent the nearer they came to the Chronoquil desert. Spanning a majority of  South-Western Arcrose, it would likely be the hardest leg of their journey. The Prince continued to train Altan with the sword at night, which he was now quite proficient with and could easily hold his own now. Once or twice he'd even bested The Prince, which he took great pride in. Meanwhile, during the hot daylight they spent travelling, they did the only thing they could do to pass the time. Talk.
The conversations started small and shallow; I hope Sophie is okay, wow that was some strong alcohol, hey look at that cool tree over there. Then, they spent a while planning how they would keep a low profile in Scorchshield. With wide, open ground, frequent patrols, heavy fortifications, and bustling trade, The Prince reasoned it would probably be wisest to enter the large city direct. Posing as a young man and his blind grandfather, they would enter Scorshield looking to sell their exotic pet-Knax-in the popular monthly market fest to put food on the table. They'd travelled from a small temperate forest village to the North-East called Armagh, and would return there after the trade. Although Centurion had most of the major villages and towns across Arcrose under his control, there was still the necessity of trade and travel in order to keep the economy in check, so it wouldn't be too far of a stretch. With a solid plan in place, The Prince and Altan finally resorted to more intriguing topics.
On the second day, they passed through a series of tall mesa cliff sides featuring several large, gaping caves. It has begun to rain quite heavily so they hastily entered a ground-levelled cavern to escape the downpour. Further into the depths of its rocky maw had been a large jagged circle of stones, standing tall and ominous in the dark, damp interior. A fairy circle. Soon after, they made the unfortunate discovery that the cavern also happened to be a den for a family of manticores, likely there to protect the forbidden portal. They left promptly, choosing to endure the warm heavy rain rather than tussle with the terrifying felines. The encounter did, however, spark conversation of what exactly the human world was like.
Altan spent hours of days telling The Prince all about his world, and his once cozy life. He first shared details of his house, with its tall, luxurious windows and large open-concept rooms. How it wasn't build of wood and stone, but of materials called cement and drywall, shingles and glass. He explained in depth the rules of hockey, how he was captain of high school team, and all the games and tournaments his team had won. When The Prince asked him what high school was, Altan explained their structure of education, with the various grades and curriculums and subjects that most youth devoted a majority of their childhood to. He tried, the best he could, to explain the concept of electricity and phones and electronics, and all the quality of life inventions that had stemmed from them. The Prince couldn't quite grasp such an idea, and called it magic in itself that a 'picture' could be taken of any scenery and that a miniature version of it could be transported and viewed at any time on the screen of a 'phone', even if the object no longer existed in real life. Or, how two people thousands and thousands of kilometres apart could communicate through strange frequencies that travelled to a place called 'space' and somehow transformed into tangible words and images on the way.
Altan told The Prince about anything and everything he could, and in a weird way it comforted him to speak so fondly about all the things he once took for granted. Like chocolate. And cars. And planes. Boy, was it amusing to try and explain the concept of a plane to The Prince.
Then, it was The Prince's turn.
He didn't have nearly as much to share as Altan, though Altan wasn't sure it was because he'd already picked up so much after months in Arcrose or because The Prince didn't want to. However, The Prince did take the time to tell Altan about some of his favourite foods and games he used to play as a child. Altan learned that his favourite food was jackalope stew as it was the first creature he ever successfully hunted. He learned that The Princes favourite colour was yellow, go figure. The Prince told him about a game he loved to play that involved throwing small objects- sticks, rocks, pieces of bark- into the air and then shooting them down before they landed with various forms of magic. Apparently, he even had a fennecainx himself as a child, with golden flames and two heads for its double.
     Then, he explained a little bit more about Arcrose itself. With not nearly as much in the way of North-South, Arcrose was split in half into West Arcrose and East Arcrose. The West is where the Arcanians lived, being the most widespread magical race to exist in this land. It's villages, towns, and cities all ran under a classic monarchy, which until recent years had been headed by The Prince's late mother and father. Now, a dictatorship bled through the streets under the banner of Centurion, and his supposed master, Xorvad the Dark One. The East was much different.
     Separated by a massive bridge from the West, the East was home to virtually all other intelligent magical races, and many more species of the beastly variety than what roamed here. They ran under a kind of directorial republic system. Each race had its own 'territory' so to speak, with individual structures and customs and cultures, plus a capital region that any and all race could live in and co-exist should they choose. Each race, in whatever way they chose, would elect one representative to be apart of a council that collectively ruled the East. They could range from a king to a commoner, whoever fit the role best. Each representative had an equal say in matters with the exception of the dragon representative, usually a monarch, which in their deity-like status held the power to make the final calls. Since the release of Xorvad's monsters and the fall of the late dragon King, Nydred, Lord of the Skies, that seat had apparently remained vacant. Ozir, though alive, was nowhere to be found.
And so, over days and nights, their conversation continued. Over increasingly dry plains, shallow murky rivers, and desolate cracked earth until finally, silhouetted against a brazen horizon, Scorchshield came into view. It was in the afternoon of the sixth day, with the sun high and blazing down upon their sun kissed faces, that Altan witnessed true monsters. The Whisperhounds, the Skel, to an extent even the Dreamstalkers were all puppets designed for the purposes of the Black Guard. Crowd control. Tools. Powerful in their own right, but little else in the way of hunting dragons. And he could see other atrocities patrolling the outside of the city but those.
      Standing at least twenty feet, nestled menacingly on top of each of the two large lookout towers, posed two terrifying monsters The Prince called Scourge. Eight long, spindly legs, a fat, grotesque abdomen, sporting fangs dripping with venom, two arms like a mantis lined with glinting spikes the length of swords, and a curling scorpion-like tail. Some grotesque mix between a spider, scorpion, and mantis, the Scourge struck fear into the depths of Altan's heart as their shiny black eyes scanned the sandy horizon. Even the Black Guard seemed to avoid the chittering beasts.
Despite their looming unease, swaddled with layers of raggedy black cloaks (courtesy of Kauri), and with a strip of thick cloth blindfolding his glowing eyes, The Prince and Altan were admitted with little hassle into the sprawling city of Scorchshield. Although Knax turned some heads as they entered the bustling streets, no one really paid attention to them, and instead ducked their heads and went quietly about their days. Their guise of grandfather and grandson had worked better than expected.
       Or, so they thought.
       It was disgusting, how easily they closed in. The Prince, blindfolded, could not see their surroundings and the swarming crowds flooded both Knax and Altan's senses with an overload of information. Yet as they entreated a large plaza, and the people sensing a rising tension cleared the area, Altan realized with a start that it was not just the lone Black Guard there, moving diligently to intercept them. It was dozens upon dozens of them, flanked by whisperhounds, and riding strange ostrich-like creatures, surrounding the perimeter. And it was Sophie, riding atop Agni beside the soldier, with tears in her big brown eyes, clutching a crumpled wanted poster. Knax stopped before the soldier, fire flaring, a low growl in her throat.
      The guard unsheathed his sword and said, "Former Prince Griffin, by order of his majesty, King Centurion, I demand you and your companion drop your weapons, and step off your mount. Immediately."